It was towards the end of May, 1841, I set out from Novo Tcherkask, to explore the Manitch, a paltry stream, but which, nevertheless, had for a long while the honour of marking the boundary between Europe and Asia. I was accompanied by my friend, Baron Kloch, a German by birth, and a most agreeable man, lately arrived for the first time in Russia. His intelligent conversation was a great source of enjoyment to me. Six hours' travel brought us to Axai, a charming stanitza, built like an amphitheatre on the right bank of the Don. It is the great trading place of the Cossacks, and but for the vicinity of Rostof, a Russian, and of course a privileged town, it would have been made the capital of the Don country, and the general entrepot of all the traffic from the north of the empire. The project was even entertained at first, but it was defeated partly by intrigue, and partly I believe by the obstinacy of Count Platof. Axai is, nevertheless, the handsomest stanitza in the country. Its balconied houses, painted in different colours, its port, the activity prevailing in it, its lively and bustling population, all excite the traveller's attention and curiosity. When I arrived in the town the inundations of the Don were at their height, and as far as the eye could reach the waters covered the low plain that stretches along its left bank. We were soon furnished with a boat having on board a pilot and four excellent rowers, and at nine in the evening, we embarked to cross the river. The evening was perfectly calm and beautiful; and I shall never forget the lodkas with bellied sails, gliding down with the current, the melancholy songs of the Russian boatmen, the sounds from Axai gradually dying away in the distance, and our boat skimming across the smooth surface of the water, which broke in thousands of sparks from the oars. At midnight we landed before Makinskaia, where we passed the remainder of the night on heaps of hay, in the court-yard of a paltry inn.
At daybreak next morning, the saddle horses were ready, and we started for Manitchkaia on the confluence of the Manitch with the Don. After some hours' riding we were brought to a halt by the overflow of the latter river; and for want of a better road to reach the stanitza, we were obliged to betake ourselves to wading through the temporary lake. This was the most unpleasant part of our journey. For a distance of more than four leagues our horses plodded on through thick mud with the water up to their bellies; and sometimes they were forced to swim. Besides this, we were tormented by clouds of gnats. At last our situation became quite intolerable; for in the very middle of this passage we were assailed by a violent hurricane, the rain came down in torrents; our baggage waggon broke down, and we very nearly lost all its contents. The whole day was consumed in making the six leagues to Manitchkaia. Our Kalmucks only succeeded in extricating the waggon from the hole in which it was stuck fast, by yoking one of their horses to it by the tail. This is an infallible means as we often found by experience; nothing can resist the violent efforts of the unfortunate horse when he finds himself in that predicament.
Leaving Manitchkaia, we skirted along the basin of the Manitch. The first dwellings we descried were some miserable Tatar cabins, surrounded with brambles and thistles. We found in them an old Tatar captain, a relic of the French campaign. He amused us a good deal by his pompous encomiums on the valour and tall stature of the Prussians. A Frenchman, said he, does not fear ten Russians, but a Prussian would settle at least ten Frenchmen.